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a journal of literature & art

Poetry of Issue 9: Broken Wings, Broken Dreams

Broken Wings, Broken Dreams

He had been acting his spirit not his age

since they got married. She knew that

she would never be able to contain him.

She knew that it wasn’t her job to do so.

She thought he had an unknowable spirit.

Not the spirit of an old soul, but that of

a man that would change the color of his hair

as if he was a punk rocker

at the drop of a guitar pick.

He was a man that looked more for the adventure in

the mundane than for

the mundane that was adventurous.

The end of their marriage was not a riddle.

The marriage was over with the birth of their second daughter.

She supposed that his wandering mind came

from growing up on the prairie,

but growing up on the prairie wasn’t the problem.

He would have acted the same way if they had spent

Their courtship in the heart of Manhattan.

Yet, when you grow up in a MidWestern college town,

you end up knowing everyone: townie or transplant.

He felt lonely in San Diego.

He moved them back. She knew something was amiss.

There were friends always moving in and out.

Out of work actors. Workshop graduates.

Particle physicists.

But, he didn’t move back for them.

He moved because he wanted to shelter himself

In the blanket that was the familiar,

A blanket of wheat, corn, beans and pig shit.

He’d acted out of character

during the first birth as well,

Wandering the halls of the hospital,

unsure in what direction he was supposed

to be heading in.

Just as lost and lonely as before.

But, compared to the second daughter,

that first birth was easy.

He understands he had responsibilities this time.

He understands that his primary job was to continue

that type of support that he had been failing to give her

for the past nine months, but he had just started

to give her in the last couple of weeks.

She knew deep down, momentarily, at least,

He had the ability to be a good father.

He often showed signs of it.

There was the time that their youngest hit

her nose up against their concert floor

Trying to reach for a rattle just outside of her crib.

With the blood flowing, he rushed her to the hospital.

The fact that he was watching the Cubs that afternoon

While she was building a makeshift stairway to

Her liberation is of no consequence. He was paying

Attention when it counted.

They came out of nowhere, and

It isn’t as if he didn’t know the due date.

.

This trip to the hospital he felt there was no reason to rush.

Some old friends from college were in town.

They were a band whose lead singer had a connection to Iowa.

A big band that shouldn’t have cared about a city in the middle

of the prairie no matter how many

college students lived there.

They were men from California and Arizona.

Arid places with no corn, no beans.

It was this day

The day her husband went out for drinks

with the members of Mr. Mister instead of

attending the birth of their second daughter

that she knew that their marriage was over.

Jason R. Gallagher

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